That frightened Susan more than if he had shouted.
Because Michael had never been unable to answer her before.
He finally spoke.
“I thought I was protecting what was left of us.”
Susan felt her stomach tighten.
“Protecting us from what?”
Michael held onto the back of a chair. His hands trembled.
For eighteen years, Susan had believed she was the only person carrying pain from that night.
Now she realized Michael had been carrying something too.
Something he had never told her.
The silence that followed was different from all the others they had shared.
This was not punishment.
This was fear of what the truth would change.
Michael finally turned back toward her. His eyes were wet, and his voice was barely steady.
“There’s something about that night I never told you.”
For Susan, that sentence changed the meaning of their entire marriage.
The cold distance she had accepted for eighteen years suddenly looked different. The separate rooms. The careful conversations. The way Michael avoided touching her.
